Of Syrup and Snowflakes
by CrystallineMaple
Summary: (AU) When Lukas and Matthew move to an International School in the USA, they become good friends. However, life doesn't go as planned when love, family issues, and long-buried secrets are discovered... DenNor, PruCan, PruHun, more.
1. Patience

NORWAY

_pa·tience_

_1. the quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like._

People who say only the good and kind are patient are fools. Serious, idiotic fools.

Actually, it could be quite the opposite.

Those with ulterior motives are _always patient_. Trust me, I would know.

Parents are supposed to protect you. A little fact about me: mine did not.

My parents were not good people, but they were not patient. Nor did they have ulterior motives, which is going to make them seem like confusing people. Or maybe it's simple for you.

No matter. My parents are a story for a different day. Allow me to introduce myself: Lukas Bondevik, and right now, I am sitting in advanced statistics, in a new school.

I had to transfer to this private school because my parents said I had to come here. My parents have unrealistic expectations.

My parents do not love me.

They don't love Emil (my little brother) either, and we both know it.

They are patient, waiting for us to exceed their expectations. We are patient, waiting for them to love us, or to be proud of us.

We all know we will die before we receive what we are waiting for.

Anyways, it was a Thursday when my parents announced we were moving. They had bought a nice house in the United States, with four bedrooms and two bathrooms, because they say there's a lot more space in America and their job was moving them.

Leaving Norway.

**No. Unacceptable.**

"Who's the new kid?"

"New kid?" Alfred Jones asked, setting down his lunch tray. "You mean that silent, emotionless kid?"

"Him?" Mathias Køhler replied. "He's in my chemistry class. Lukas Bondevik, I think."

Alfred frowned. "Aren't you in advanced chemistry?"

"Yeah," Mathias grunted. "This better not be another 'please help me with my classwork' plead?"

"Nah," Alfred laughed. "Not _this _early in the year. But did you know he's in every advanced class?"

"Well shit," Gilbert said. "Where's he from?"

"I heard he was Norwegian," Alfred offered, then laughed. "Enough about Lukas, though. Did you guys _see _Katyusha Braginskaya? Hasn't she gotten _HOT _over break?"

Mathias agreed, laughed loudly, and took a bite of his cookie, trying to enjoy lunch with his two best friends. After all, better get used to being back at school, as he had another entire year of high school ahead of him.

But the truth was that he wanted to get to know Lukas better.

is this not enough?

I'm in every advanced class. I have earned the highest marks in every class, out of everyone, since I have been in junior high school. At my old school, I was in art club and film club. I taught myself fluent German, English and French, I self-taught myself the violin. I'm really good and sports like skiing, snowboarding, hockey. I have been called 'perfect' more times than I can count.

I am not bragging. I am asking, honestly.

Here is something you should consider: Is 'perfect' a compliment when the word has become so hollow and superficial?

* * *

The next day in (advanced) chemistry, Mathias walked straight up to me.

"Hey. I'm Mathias." Like I don't know who he is. Loudmouth Køhler. Loud enough to be American. He's not, though.

"I know," comes the dull reply.

"Do you like this school?" Mathias asks.

"It's the exact same as every school I've ever been to."

Mathias sits down in the empty chair next to me. "How so?" Desperately trying to break the ice.

"It's stupid. It's easy."

"Oh." Mathias sighs. Well, was he honestly expecting more of an answer? "But it's not that bad, is it? I mean..."

"No," I agree. "It's not that bad."

Mathias is smiling uncontrollably, his entire face brighter than a 100-watt bulb, his smile so happy I wince. "Could you...?"

"Sorry," Mathias replies, forcing himself to drown his huge smile. No need to creep me out. Mathias glances up as the door opens.

A tall, blonde, stern-looking student walks in and sits near the back of the room. Alone.

"Who's that?" I ask, noticing the way Mathias is staring at the student.

"Berwald," whispers Mathias.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, mentally rolling my eyes.

Mathias stares ahead towards the board. "Sort of. I'm on this guy's bad side, ya know?"

"Sure," I say. I've been on plenty of people's bad sides before. Mostly my parents'. That was a major one to consider. "Why?"

"It's not something I really want to talk about," Mathias replies, looking distracted. He shakes himself from his daze. "So what's your next class?"

"I have lunch next," I say, staring at the Dane. Idiot.

Mathias blinks. "Oh. But you weren't there yesterday?"

_This guy must have been paying attention to me. He knows I wasn't at lunch yesterday. Creepy. "_No," I say. "I ate in the art room. I was finishing a project."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well!" Mathias says. "Want to eat lunch with me and my friends today?"

_My friends and me, I_ think out of habit. I haven't said something like that since I was little. If I did, my parents would have a fit. But I simply say, "Fine."

And then Mathias' damn stupid Super Sunshine Smile reappeared on his face, I note with displeasure.

But again, I say nothing, and open my textbook for class.

* * *

"How was your day?"

"Fine," I reply. "It doesn't matter, though. The first day is the only day that matters, and you didn't bother to ask me how the first day went, so why do you care about the second?"

"I don't know why you insist on being so difficult, Lukas," my mother snaps from the kitchen. "Your father is showing care. You are very ungrateful."

"I know I am," I reply calmly. "It could be worse."

"Young man, your attitude astonishes me," spits my mother, Kari.

"It could be worse," I repeat again, slowly. "I could be a liar. I am not."

Kari purses her lips. "Well."

"If you looked at Far [1]," I say, closing my eyes, "maybe you would understand."

"Lukas?" Far exclaims, looking up from his newspaper. "What are you talking about?"

_Oh, Mor [2]. Your husband is cheating on you._ But instead I say, "It is nothing, really. I apologize. I am going to study what we learned today. Please call me when dinner is ready."

I go up to my room. Emil isn't home yet. Probably out with friends or at the library or something.

What I said earlier was true. Far is cheating on Mor with a young, beautiful, bitchy woman named Tyler. An American. My mother is blind to these things.

I sigh and rest my head on my desk.

I want to go back to Norway.

* * *

[1] Far- Dad  
[2] Mor- Mom

A/N: Okay, I know the "format" (I guess that's what I should call it?) of this story is really, really weird. I don't even know what I'm doing. But I hope you enjoyed, and I'll update soon! More pairings coming up!


	2. The Truth Hurts

NORWAY

"Okay, so here's the rundown." Mathias takes a sip from his bottle of water and turns around in his chair. "So, that's Ivan. He's _sorta_ scary. Um, Natalia is that _really_ scary girl over there."

"No, she's not that bad," interrupts Alfred. "Really." He looks at me. "This guy exaggerates everything."

"Do _not!" _huffs Mathias. "She's terrifying. You're the one who actually dated her, okay?"

"No, dude, do not bring that up," Alfred snorts. "That was, like, a hundred years ago."

Alfred, Gilbert and Mathias are giving me the dirt on everyone in the cafeteria.

"Whatever," Gilbert says. "You guys are really crazy. Anyway, over there is Antonio. That guy is Francis. At that table..." Gilbert points... "is Elizaveta."

"P.S., that's Gilbert's one true love," Mathias stage-whispers.

"What?" exclaims Gilbert angrily. "No_freaking_ way!"

"Aww, look at 'em blush," Mathias laughs, turning to me. "And we're the crazy ones?"

The thing that catches my attention is not Elizaveta's hair or clothes or face, it's the Polaroid camera sitting next to her at her table. I'm interested in photography, but when I stop by to chat with her, I realize-

This girl is my neighbor. I saw her once, when she came over the day I moved here to give my family and me a basket with chocolate and flowers.

I don't know the neighbors that well yet, and I'm only familiar with the family to the left of our house, an older couple with grandchildren who visit sometimes.

We have a quick conversation about classes, cameras, the stunning fact that we- gasp!- live right next to each other and didn't even know it, and she asks me where I moved from, how I like the school, are you doing okay, etc.

I say Norway, which is the truth. I say the school is fine, which is the truth. I say I'm doing okay, which is a lie.

After lunch is over, as I make my way to art class with Gilbert, I turn to ask him if there is something wrong, remembering what happened in chemistry yesterday.

_"Was?" _he asks, spinning around just before we duck into the arts hallway. I want to respond in German, but it's against my better judgement.

"You know Berwald, right?" I ask. "Who is he? What does he have to do with Mathias?"

"Ohh." Gilbert sits down at an empty table and I sit down next to him. He frowns, concentrating, staring at a blank, crisp page in his sketchbook. "Well... do you know who he is, exactly?"

"He's in my statistics class."

"So that's a no."

"I"- I begin, hoping Gilbert doesn't think I'm dim.

"It's fine," he says, his pencil making quick, sharp marks on his paper. "Mathias and Berwald have always been sort of testy with each other. It's a rivalry or something, I think. I don't know."

"A rivalry?"

"Ja." Gilbert's eyes are narrow, squinting at the sketchbook. He's stopped drawing and is just staring at the paper. "A couple years ago- three years ago- Berwald and Mathias got into a fight. A really bad fight."

A jolt of shock goes through me. Mathias seems goofy, kind and gentle. Of course, my face doesn't register the emotion, and I say, "Really bad?"

"They both got sent to the hospital," Gilbert replies, still staring at the pencil marks on his page. "Berwald broke his nose and Mathias dislocated his shoulder, to start with. A lot worse things than that happened, but that's just what I heard from the rumors that were going around."

"What was it about?"

Gilbert shrugs. "I just started hanging out with Mathias after that. I had to."

I raise an eyebrow. "You had to?"

Gilbert sighs loudly. "I don't really know, okay?" His voice is tinged with annoyance, but I know it's not directed to me.

"Oh. Thanks," I say, opening my own sketchbook and taking out a stub of charcoal. "It's not a big deal. I was just wondering."

Actually, I've learned this is another thing people (patient and impatient alike) say when they're just dying to know more- _it's not a big deal._

_I was just wondering._

* * *

When I get home, I go straight up to my room and slam my bookbag down on the ground. I take out my laptop and am writing a Lit essay, choosing the topic of adjusting to a new school and country/continent, until I hear Mor yelling up the stairs at me.

"Lukas, please come down here!"

"Ugh," I complain out loud, but quiet enough so that Mor won't hear. (A/N: If you've ever heard someone complain in monotone, it sounds weird, just FYI.) I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Mor and Emil are. "Yes, is something the matter?" I lose my somewhat sarcastic tone when I see the obvious worry across my mother's face.

So what if she doesn't love me? She is still my mother, so in a way, I care for her. Of course I do.

"Now boys," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wouldn't ask this unless it was important."

"Just ask," Emil grunts. "I've got stuff to do, okay?"

Mor shoots Emil a disapproving look and continues. "I'm worried your father has been led astray."

"What?" Emil's eyes shoot wide open, huge and trembling. "_Our _father? Led astray? Are you serious? No way!" But of course Emil knew.

Kari nods sadly. I want to say that Mor is slow for noticing. I want to say to her, "Can't you hear the sarcasm dripping from Emil's voice? Can't you?" but I don't say a word. I just nod.

"Anyways, I want you two to see if you can verify this information."

"What." Emil's eyes narrow and there is nothing sarcastic about the disbelief in his voice now. "What are you talking about?"

Kari sighed and pushes her hair behind her ear. "Listen, boys. I want you to... well, spy on your father."

I cross my arms. I am five inches taller than his Mor, hovering over her. Sometimes I am glad she is short. "Why should we?"

"Because I'm asking you to."

"Oh. Oh." Emil throws his hands up in the air. "You're asking us to? Because, you know, you never ask us to do anything else."

"Your attitude"-

"Well excuse me!" Emil shouts, and even I flinch. Emil stands up from his seat. "I'm sorry I'm never good enough for you!"

"Emil, what are you trying to say?" hisses Mor.

I frown. "He's right."

"So you two are teaming up against me?" Kari shouts. "Typical. You two are such a disappointment, you know that?"

"We're _disappointments?" _Emil exclaims. "Goodbye!" With that, my younger brother walks straight out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

Mor turns to me, her eyes wide. "Don't you agree with me? Don't you want to help me?"

I consider this for a moment. Emil and I both remain somewhat emotionless for quite some time, until we get pushed beyond our limit, as Emil had just shown. The thing was, we relieve anger differently.

"I would, Mor," I say as sweetly as I can. "I really would. But unfortunately, I'm such a disappointment_, _I'm afraid I won't be capable of much help." With that, I turn on my heel and follow my brother.

**A/Ns: Next chapter will not be partly from Norway's POV, I'll be adding in a special sweetheart who likes bacon and maple syrup! Thanks for the reviews and favs and hope to see you next chapter!**


	3. It's Hockey Time

NORWAY

"I'm really sorry about this."

"Oh, it's not a problem, really. Do you want something to drink? I'm in the middle of making these delicious new tortes from a recipe I just found, but sit down! Make yourself at home." Elizaveta is smiling at me so much I worry her face might start to hurt, so I take a seat at the kitchen table with Emil.

"Thanks, Elizaveta," Emil mumbles in monotone.

I don't really know Elizaveta that well yet, but she is my next door neighbor and classmate, so I decided to see if I could stop by to escape having to stay with Mor at the moment. She was happy to comply.

"Will your mother or father care that we're here?" I ask, looking around. Her kitchen is extremely neat and clean with dried plants hanging from the wall and a bright vase on the table. It looks like the kitchen of someone with OCD.

"No," she says quickly. "You don't have to worry about that. I live alone." The oven starts beeping, and she turns to let me absorb what she just said.

"Oh," Emil says evenly, though he's clearly caught off guard.

"Right," Elizaveta says, smiling. "You're Emil Bondevik, right? Lukas' little brother? We're not in the same grade, so I don't believe we've met. I'm Elizaveta."

"Yes," Emil replies. "It's nice to meet you."

"So. I'll skip the preamble." Elizaveta sits down across from us. "What happened? I'm not trying to seem nosy or anything, but I heard shouting coming from your house, then you two just appeared."

Emil and I look at each other, then I start talking. "Well, we got in a fight with our mother. She suspects our father is cheating on her, and she wanted us to spy on him to see if it is true or not."

Elizaveta looks shocked. "Surely not! Do you two believe this?"

"Oh, of course," Emil says before I can respond. "Far doesn't care about us, just buying us expensive things and using us as bragging rights. Oh, and his slut girlfriend Anna or whatever is name is."

"Anya, I think," I correct Emil. I turn back to Elizaveta. "Anyways, I'm very sorry for disturbing you, but do you know any good places where we could stay the night? Once we get everything settled, we may try to find an apartment or someth"-

"Don't be silly!" Elizaveta exclaims. "You can stay here, of course."

"But... you're a virtual stranger... it's very generous, but..." Emil stammers.

"Please?" Elizaveta asks. "I'm not trying to guilt you into anything, never, but I've been quite lonely these past few months. My parents still pay the bills for me- I'm not working my tail off- but still. I only get to interact with people at school. And this way, if you decide to reconcile with your parents, you can just walk next door!" Her eyes look so hopeful I can't say no.

"Alright, Elizaveta, if you're sure it's okay with you."

Elizaveta practically jumps up with excitement. "Okay! Yay! Now, does anyone want to try this torte~?"

* * *

"Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"No. It's fine. I'm sorry." I pick up one of my textbooks off of the ground and stand back up. "But say, I haven't seen you before. What's your name?"

"A-ah. I'm Matthew Williams," says the classmate standing in front of me. He knocked into me in the hallway, and though I see no issues with a simple mistake, he's pretty worked up over it. "I'm in your, uh, French class, I think."

"Oh." I shrug. "Sorry I don't recognize you. I'm Lukas Bondevik."

"Y-yes. I heard you moved here from Norway?"

"Correct," I say, starting to walk to lunch. "Are you new here?"

"Yeah," Matthew replies. "I moved here from Canada."

"Do you like it here?"

"It's... better than my last school. The people here seem really nice." Matthew looks up at me hopefully. "What about you, eh? Do you like it here?"

_Well, I'm living with a stranger, I'm running off of caffeine and it's only fourth day of school, and so far the only friends I've made are a bunch of loudmouths. _"Yeah, I guess I like it here," I say.

I think of the text I got from my father yesterday night.

_Lukas, where are you and Emil?_

_-It's none of your concern. We are fine._

_Alright. Your Mor is worried._

_-Tell Mor to get over it._

Far didn't even bother to elaborate. He didn't text me _or _Emil again, which really shows how much he cares. In fact, he was so not-caring he never got to see that Emil and I actually woke up very early and made a gourmet Norwegian-style breakfast for Elizaveta, upon which she got very genuinely happy and had to take a picture of it to show Kiku later.

"Lukas?" Matthew jolts me out of my thoughts.

"What?" I ask, sitting down at my regular table. None of them are here yet - Mathias, Alfred, or Gilbert - but I'm not exactly looking forward to seeing the last one since the conversation we had yesterday in art class.

"I was just wondering if you played sports."

"Mostly the snowy stuff. You know. Typical Norwegian."

"Ever play hockey?"

"Sometimes," I reply cooly, pretty sure I know where this is going. Canadian + Sports Conversation = Asking for a hockey game. "Do you?"

"Do I?" Matthew exclaims, grinning.

"Do you what?" Mathias asks, sitting down next to me.

"Play hockey," I fill in for him.

"Oh God. Hockey!" Mathias smiles widely. "The last time I played hockey I broke my left arm."

"You did _not," _Alfred teases, and I look up to see the American sitting down too. "You dislocated your shoulder for God's sake. And that was three years ago. Geez."

What?

"You... dislocated your shoulder three years ago?" I ask, thinking only of what Gilbert told me. Fight with Berwald.

"Yeah," he says, taking out a sandwich. "It was _in-_tense, man. Never playing hockey again."

"It's not so bad, if you can actually play," Matthew says, a joking lilt to his voice.

"You trying to say something?" Mathias retorts, but he's only pretending to be angry. The three have a quick conversation about hockey, then introduce themselves to Matthew.

"Where's Gilbert?" I ask, looking around the cafeteria.

"That I know," Alfred says, popping the top of his soda. "So last night before I went to bed, I was talking to Francis, who says he and Gilbert and Antonio are skipping class today. I don't remember why. Some dumb festival thing."

"Ooh, talking to Francis," purrs Mathias, earning a sucker punch from Alfred.

"Oh, shut it," Alfred mutters. "You know I live with the jerk."

"Woah, what?" I ask, my interest piqued.

Mathias nods. "Yeah. This idiot lives with Francis Bonnefoy and Arthur Kirkland. No adults. Just three of the loudest, most prone to arguing people ever in one house. Sounds fantastic, right?"

_What's up with all the loners at this school? _I wonder, thinking of Elizaveta. Technically, though, Emil and I live without any adult supervision. Okay, so it's only been one day, but still.

I'm willing to bet no one's coming back to get us.

**Okay so I know Emil's name is technically 'Emil Steilsson' and not 'Emil Bondevik', but in this story the entire family (Lukas, Emil, Kari and their father) are Bondeviks, and raised both children as Norwegian, but this... may change later! hehehe! Sorry, I'm totally not sneaky.. Anyhow, please review!**


	4. Ivan and Berwald

A/N: I'm sorry if I'm getting on your nerves but please review... please... I just don't know if this story is getting any views anymore, but I do like it okay...

CANADA

"Oh, hey, you're the new kid, right? Well, the Canadian one?"

"U-um, yes," I say nervously, staring down at my feet.

"Aww, don't blush, Mattie! Antonio, you're scaring him, don't be so up front!"

"Would you two just shut up?" Gilbert rolls his eyes dramatically. "Anyways, Matthew, this is Francis Bonnefoy, and this is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo." Gilbert pauses. "So, Antonio, aren't you going to ask?"

"Right!" The excited Spaniard nods, looking right at me. "Well, Matthew, I'm the head of the school newspaper, but I quit, and I haven't found a replacement and the next printing is tomorrow, so is there any chance you could maybe"-

"Wait!" I exclaim. "The printing is tomorrow and you've done...?"

"Well, no one really shows up to the meetings, so... We usually pull out something crappy on the last day! But Lukas is doing most of the work at the moment..."

"Of course," I sigh. That guy, I swear. He does everything. And I think he gets at least four hours of sleep every night. Yeah - at least. That's a lot. I'm struggling to maintain a 4.0. The United States, honestly, is a bit exhausting. "I'll take your place. But..."

"But?" Antonio asks, looking hopeful.

"You have to buy me a total of a gallon of maple syrup over the next month!" I laugh.

"You cheek!" Francis giggles as Antonio's facial expressions switch between shock, surprise, and determination in about half a second.

"Would you all please quiet down?"

"Oh, we were just..." Gilbert trails off.

A tall - like, a foot taller than me - guy is glaring at us disapprovingly. Gilbert, Antonio, Francis and I were just mostly keeping to ourselves, but I don't dare contradict this guy. He looks murderous. There's nothing funny about his blonde hair, and I bet if someone made an insulting remark towards him they would get pummeled to the ground before you could say "Sweden."

"Okay, sorry," Gilbert says quickly. It's funny - I've seen Gilbert talk back to Ivan Braginsky, who apparently is the scariest thing around here since sophomore trigonometry - but he doesn't hesitate to apologize to this guy.

"Who's that?" I whisper, because the teacher, Mr. Novak, has started talking about our essays again. Gilbert frowns. "Berwald Oxenstierna," he replies quietly. "He's sort of scary."

I take one look at Berwald, shiver, and nod. After my last class, I meet up with Lukas in the computer lab. He's obviously expecting Antonio, and raises an eyebrow. "Hey, Matthew." He remembered my name! Lots of people at this International American school have been doing that, and to be honest, it's wonderful. At my old school everyone either ignored me or hated me, I've no clue why. "Where's Antonio?"

"He quit," I say. "So, what's going on?"

Lukas' eye twitches, and I notice the half-empty can of Red Bull sitting next to his laptop. He takes a bite of a PopTart - technically food isn't allowed in the computer lab but I suppose he must have gotten these things from Alfred Jones - and sighs. "It's supposed to be out tomorrow - and if it's not, Herr Bäcker is going to be doing some serious ass-kicking. On us."

I frown. Herr Bäcker is the German teacher. I don't have him, but I've seen him ominously patrolling the halls before class, and he's sent many students to tears with colorfully-worded, shouted lectures. He's also in charge of making sure the newspaper gets printed every two weeks. Yay us.

I sit down next to him and scan my mind for recent events. "Guess we better get working, eh?"

Working all night isn't grand, but even less grand is coming home late. "Where have you been, young man? Not a call, not a text." Mom puts a hand on her hip and frowns at me, pointing at me with her spatula. She was in the middle of making dinner when I walked in. At 7:30 PM.

"She's right," my dad says from his favorite armchair, directing his eyes away from the TV screen where he was watching the news - apparently 10 are dead in an earthquake on the other side of the country, 28 feared missing. Great.

"Sorry," I say. "I was working on the newspaper."

Mom sighs. "Okay, sweetie, but let me know next time. Really! At any rate, dinner's ready."

The next Monday, the back-to-school happiness has completely faded, leaving crankiness, boredom and the beginning of lifelong exhaustion creeping towards us on the horizon. Lukas and I pulled the paper off without a hitch, improving two whole articles about students at the mall and movies. All lies, but Herr Bäcker didn't notice, so it's fine.

I search for someone to talk to during lunch, trying to find Gilbert or Lukas or even Antonio, but as I'm wandering around the cafeteria, I run into someone.

"Watch it!"

"Sorry," I say quickly, turning to see a light-haired, sullen looking guy. His eyes widen when he realizes he's just scolded an upperclassman, and immediately apologizes. "I'm sorry, I - I wasn't thinking at all," he says. I know he is actually really thinking, and he's thinking 'please don't make my life miserable.'

"Um, are you a freshman?" I ask. I'm in the eleventh grade, a junior, almost the oldest but not quite, but freshmen are the bottom of the heap, lowest of the low. As Alfred would say, It's how it goes, sorry if you don't like it, next year you'll be older.

He nods quickly. "I'm Emil Bondevik. And you...?"

Emil Bondevik? "I knew you looked familiar!" I say. "I'm Matthew Williams. You're Lukas' younger brother, right?"

"Yes," he says as we sit down at a lunch table. We're the same height... I feel sort of short at the moment.

"That's nice. Lukas is nice."

Emil shrugs, biting into his apple. "I guess. Do you have any siblings?" The tone of his voice is still, Why are you taking to me? Not in a bad way. In a surprised way.

"No," I say. "Just me. And my parents, of course! Can't live without em, eh."

I see his jaw tighten but I've no idea why. I jump as Gilbert flops into the chair next to me. He flips his hand at Emil. "Hallo. Gilbert Beilschmidt here. I'm guessing you're Lukas' brother"- he waits for Emil to nod then continues talking to me - "you'll never guess what happened to me over the weekend."

"What?" I ask, but judging by Gilbert's facial expression, I'm guessing it's very interesting. I'm interrupted by a chime from my phone. Lukas.

Lukas Bondevik: Please come to the Media Classroom right away.

"Sorry, I've got to go," I say, picking up my back and waving at Emil and Gilbert. "I think it's important." I don't wait for an answer and turn to walk down the halls to the Media classroom. It's like the computer lab but there are fancy cameras that I'm scared I'll break and the laptops are loaded with video editing software.

Lukas is waiting again.

"Hey, um, everything okay?" I ask, adjusting my glasses.

"I know you're pretty good at finding stuff out about people.. like, in a good way. Don't tell anyone this, okay?"

I nod. "Okay. Of course."

"You know Mathias said he injured himself playing hockey? That's actually not the case, not according to Gilbert. He got in a fight. That's how he got hurt. Not playing sports."

I frown. I don't know Mathias that well but I do remember this. "Why would he lie?" I ask. "And what exactly are you trying to figure out?"

"I want to know more about Berwald."

I nod. "Okay, then, let's do it, I guess?" I laugh. "That sounded weird. Um, yeah, I'll"-

"Ahh, how cute. Is this your rendezvous or something?" the Russian voice stops me in an instant. Oh no no no. I turn to the door to see Ivan Braginsky standing in the doorway, smiling.

Lukas narrows his eyes. "No, we were just talking."

Ivan laughs. "Interesting. Because I do find you two both cute~"

"What the hell?" Lukas demands. "Don't you dare try to talk to me like that, I'll"-

Ivan smiles. "Fine, I'll just have to go to your little brother instead... And Matvey!" He sticks his index finger under my chin and forces my head up, "you're adorable!"

I watch as he leaves, dumbstruck. "Well that was very disturbing," I say.

Lukas rolls his eyes and nods. "Very."


	5. Northview High

A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Anyways, here's a little chapter from Emil's point of view. Whose point of view should I do next? Would you want to see something else from Matthew? Maybe Mathias or Elizaveta? You decide, just tell me!

ICELAND 

Friday nights are the best, especially when you've actually made some friends. I mean, there's nothing wrong with hanging out with your older brother and… Hungarian friend (?) every day, but after two weeks of this, it's gotten tiring.

Anyways, Lilli Zwingli and Raivis Galante invited me out for pizza with them, and I had no objections. Im Yong Soo even agreed to come along, under the terms that we would absolutely not stop and talk to anyone we saw from school, especially certain Japanese eleventh graders (again, what?) and so we all swore we wouldn't and that was that.

"So Emil, how do you like it here?" Lilli asks, taking a sip from her Sprite.

"I like it alright," I say. "I like the United States. It's pretty cool over here."

"What was Norway like?" Yong Soo asks. "It's really cold and snowy, right?"

I nod. "It was. You get used to it."

The door opens just as our pizza arrives, and a gust of cold September wind rushes to our table. Lilli winces, looks up, and goes wide-eyed, her jaw open. "I-it's…"

I turn to the doorway and see Berwald standing there. I know this because Lukas and Elizaveta talk about him sometimes; nothing they say is good, either. Apparently the others know him, too.

"Remember what I said!" Yong Soo exclaims. "No talking to other people we know."

"I thought that only applied to Japanese people!" Raivis says. "But I don't have a problem with not talking to Berwald, oh no sir."

When I get home, Elizaveta is sitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in her lap, watching _Frozen. _She looks up at me and says rather loudly, "Emil, do you wanna build a snowman?"

I roll my eyes. "Elizaveta, this movie is for kids."

"It is _not!" _And then she sort of forces me to watch it with her. It's not bad, but I don't say that, of course. It makes me a little sad, though, because I remember back in Norway there was this really pretty girl named Elsa except she absolutely despised Lukas and me. Ahh, the Norwegian nostalgia.

On Monday Lilli, Raivis and Yong Soo are huddled together during first class biology, discussing whether or not they think Berwald saw us on Friday. What does it matter, really? If he saw us, oh well, what's he going to do, kill us? I tell this to the group, and they stare at me.

"W-well," Raivis mutters, "whatever. What are you all doing for Culture Day?"

"What's Culture Day?"

"Oh!" Lilli smiles. "Since this is an international high school, they really want to embrace all the different cultures here. Once a year, usually near the beginning of the first semester, everyone dresses up in traditional clothing of their home country and brings in good food and stuff! It's really fun. And this is my first High School Culture Day!" she says excitedly.

I frown. "Do we have to participate?"

Yong Soo laughs. "I knew you were going to say that, Emil! Don't be such a Debbie Downer. Don't you wanna REPRESENT?" He follows this statement with a loud "Da-ze! Go Korea!"

Raivis laughs. "Anyways, it's really fun. And also it's required for a grade, so I'd do it if I were you."

I frown and take out my textbook as the class starts. I don't really have any traditional Norwegian style clothing except for this ridiculous costume Mor bought when we were actually _living somewhere nice, _but it's in their house. Not with Elizaveta. Lukas has an old bunad but I don't think he'd let me wear it.

"Wouldn't they be a cute couple?"

"What?" I ask, jumping when Yong Soo snaps me out of my daze. He's pointing at Lilli and Raivis, who are chatting and laughing.

"Yeah…" I trail off. "I guess so."

* * *

"Oh look, it's the Chinese dude!"

"Nooo," Yong Soo mutters. We're walking to the library to work on a German project when two unfamiliar guys call out to us just before we get there.

"What Chinese dude? Where?" Yong Soo spits.

"Oh, maybe your eyes are so small you missed him"~ the blonde guy snickers.

"Who are these sissies?" I ask Yong Soo nonchalantly, causing one of them to snort indignantly.

He frowns. "Kids from Northview High… the blonde one is Alex, the brunette is David… yeah, we hate them, make no mistake. They're in ninth grade, too."

"Who's this guy?" David sneers. "Hey, you look a little upset… like you just got dumped or something." He smiles. "Oh well, I'm sure someone else will come along… like Yong Soo!"

"That's disgusting!" Yong Soo growls. "Stop insulting us!"

"Or what? You'll poke us with a chopstick? You'll call your weirdo friends from your little Multicultural School? So scary," Alex retorts. "Sorry, but we're winning this thing, okay?"

"You should"- Yong Soo beings, but I cut him off.

"Be quiet, Yong Soo," I say, stepping forward. "Hey guys, I'm Emil. You two seem pretty cool."

Yong Soo's mouth drops open, and Daivd nods. "Yeah, same to you." He's reaching to give me some high-five like thing when I swiftly bring my knee to his groin. He crumples to the ground with a really girly shout. "Ow!"

I step back. "Don't insult my friends," I say in monotone. Yong Soo is dying laughing. "Lilli and Raivis aren't going to believe this… oh my god…"

Alex grabs me by my shoulder. "You just made the wrong enemy…" he and David walk off, leaving Yong Soo and I free to go into the library.

"Wow, what's wrong with this Northview High School?" I ask.

"Oh, everyone there is like that," Yong Soo replies. "I've known those two since seventh grade, when I moved here, ick. But that… with David… that was hilarious."

I bow quickly. "Thank you very much."

Maybe this whole new country thing won't be so bad after all.


End file.
